


To Catch a Commander

by DesdemonaSunrise



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also Adaar is the best, Awkward Cullen, Blow Jobs, Cullen engaging in some semi-public sex, F/M, Happy Ending, Intrigued? Step right in, Minor Female Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Oh and a hint of, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sassy Inquisitor, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Sorry Not Sorry, That's right, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaSunrise/pseuds/DesdemonaSunrise
Summary: Cullen despised making a fool of himself. He despised even more the idea of having to clumsily dance with a palace-load of Orlesian nobles. It was going to be an even more excruciating experience than these lessons, he predicted sourly.'Clara. I... apologise in advance for any damage done to your feet,' Cullen muttered apologetically, already done with the entire humiliating experience. Cullen thought that what he despised most of all might be making a fool of himself in front of women.~*~Cullen's dancing lessons with the Inquisitor's ever-present but inconspicuous shadow of a bodyguard get a little... out of hand.





	To Catch a Commander

**Author's Note:**

> Roll up, roll up folks for another day in Cullen appreciation land.
> 
> Warning: Shameless smut. I mean, wow, I'm surprised at how shameless and I wrote it.

~*~

 _Chapter 1: Assassination attempt_  

It was a day like any other. Herah had returned from the Hissing Wastes two days prior and routine had resumed at Skyhold. Each morning there would be a War Council (before which Cullen made every attempt to try and get _some_ paperwork done) followed by his supervision of the mid-morning training exercises, then a working lunch that segued into a long afternoon tackling more paperwork and messengers. By the time the sun had set over the horizon, he had usually made enough of a dent in his duties that he could call on his Lieutenants to hear their reports and make any major decisions for the evening. Then, he was free to do as he wished. Usually, he would either continue working, read a book and relax, or be dragged into socialising by Varric, Dorian, Herah or someone else trying to worm a social life into his working one. He would end the day by climbing into his loft and then trying to sleep. So far, he had only had moderate success with a very long, hot bath and then a large mug of tea infused with sleeping herbs. Otherwise, he would toss and turn for hours and wake up not feeling very rested at all. The days when he had too much work to do to fit in time for an evening bathe were the days he dreaded, because he knew the next day would be a struggle to work enough to be able to finish early, and it was easy for everything to snowball into a terrible week.

Cullen had the distinct feeling things had just gone from any other day to a _terrible week_. He pinched the brow of his nose and breathed in deep before he opened his eyes and looked at the unruffled Inquisitor in front of him.

'What do you mean, you were _attacked_?' He asked, not caring that he may be sounding slow.

Herah shrugged. 'An assassin hid in the crowd in the Throne Room. They came at me with a poisoned dagger. My attendant intercepted them and they're now in the dungeon being watched by the two guards normally next to the throne. Ellis and... Lucius? Something like that.'

'Ellers and Lucien,' Cullen corrected absently, then frowned. 'What attendant? I haven't assigned any of my men as your attendant.'

'No, but I did,' Leliana said as she stepped forward, a hint of a smile on her face. 'I'm glad Clara is proving useful.'

Cullen's eyebrows crept up his forehead. 'Who is this Clara?'

'To the rest of the world, she is Herah's handmaiden. She's been working directly under Herah since we properly established ourselves in Skyhold. Such ladies-in-waiting are common for women in a position of power such as our Inquisitor and it allows for another measure of protection that won't be under suspicion,' Josephine explained.

'The undetected protection is the best kind, which is why I trained someone for this very role,' Leliana interjected with a nod.

Cullen was flabbergasted. 'How did I not know about this? And isn't it a bit excessive to have the Inquisitor with a permanent escort?'

'Clearly not, as the Inquisitor has been attacked in the middle of our own keep,' Leliana retorted, voice low and dangerous. 'I will be finding out where this assassin came from as soon as the War Room is concluded, Inquisitor. Did they give any clues as to their origin, did they say anything as they attacked?'

Herah, who had been fiddling with her marker – which she had _insisted_ needed to be a miniature replica of her horns – looked up and shrugged again. 'I don't know. Clara dealt with them before they got within ten paces. Human man, dark hair, dressed in Orlesian frippery. The poison on the dagger wasn't saar-qamek or another common qunari poison, that's all I know.'

Leliana made a non-committal noise and then gestured. 'I should receive Clara's report while it is still fresh in her mind.'

Herah nodded and walked backwards, easily shoving a door open and craning her head around it. 'Clara, report.' She said, curt but not unfriendly.

'Of course, Inquisitor.'

The woman who walked in did not at all look like a trained fighter. She wore fitted dress that evoked the Orlesian style, with hair done up in an elaborate braid, and she was absolutely _tiny_. Cullen stared down at her as she came to a stop slightly behind Herah's left shoulder, posture fairly relaxed as she linked arms behind her back and just stiff enough to be formal.

Suddenly, it made sense that she could be at Herah's shoulder all day and seem a handmaid instead of a bodyguard. It was laughable to imagine this slip of a woman being assigned to the over six foot tall qunari Inquisitor for her protection.

'Describe what happened,' Leliana ordered.

'The Inquisitor was on her way here to the Throne Room from the Upper Courtyard. As we passed through the entrance, I noticed a man standing on his own behind a group of three ladies next to the second door on the right. He began to move towards the Inquisitor as we crossed the hall. I saw a flash of a metal and altered trajectory as if I had been sent on an errand to the Undercroft. I tripped him up and the dagger in his left hand was exposed. The group of three ladies were witness to this and began screaming, drawing the attention of the guards next to the Throne. Together we subdued him and he was taken by Ellers and Lucien to the cells.'

'How did you assist in subduing him?' Leliana asked, quick as one of her arrows.

'In keeping with my cover, I screamed and stomped on his groin as he attempted to retrieve his weapon and stand.'

Cullen winced in sympathy even as Herah snickered, bumping her shoulder into Clara with a grin. 'She got him twice, actually. He squeaked like a dying mouse.'

'So your cover remains intact?' Leliana queried, hand on her chin.

Clara nodded. 'I believe so. The nobles in the hall did not seem to suspect anything, and Lucien bodychecking the attacker to keep in him on the floor followed by Ellers choking him into unconsciousness is likely to overshadow my initial role.' Her dry tone made Herah snicker again.

Cullen was gratified, at least, that his men had responded appropriately to the threat. He had assigned some of his most level-headed soldiers to Throne Room duty as an overreaction or use of lethal force where not required could be disastrous for the Inquisition's reputation. As Josephine had made clear many, many times.

'No words were exchanged with the assassin?' Leliana asked.

'Negative.'

'Hm. Well, it seems we have some work to do. Who commands this assassin is a concern, but the more immediate one is that they nearly succeeded. Our vetting processes need to be reviewed.'

'That the attacked happened in such a public place will have the benefit of our visitors being more willing to submit to extra measures,' Josephine added mildly as her quill flew across her parchment. 'It is likely they will welcome attempts to make Skyhold safer.'

'And we also need to think about how to increase security around the Inquisitor, specifically,' Leliana continued, pacing now. 'We could assign another lady-in-waiting, but it will take me some time to train another agent.'

Cullen cleared his throat. 'If I may – Clara, as the Inquisitor's attendant, you may have some valuable insight here. Do you have any suggestions?'

Clara blinked once, giving away her surprise, before she responded. 'Yessir. I think the timing of the attack is significant. The Inquisitor does not have much of a routine whilst in Skyhold in the afternoons and evenings. Her mornings, however, are identical when the Inquisitor is not injured. Morning training in the upper courtyard, breakfast at the Herald's Rest, and then a set path up the main staircase into the Throne Room.'

'I see. Thank you,' Cullen said, not willing to say in front of Clara that this was clearly an unacceptable oversight. He had known that Herah sparred with Cassandra or the Iron Bull in the mornings and that she often broke fast with her companions and the Chargers. He had not known that any assassin worth their salt would see a clear pattern to exploit. The Inquisitor was clearly most vulnerable in Skyhold in the brief time between leaving the tavern and reaching the War Room. He nodded to Clara. 'You've done well today.'

'Thank you, Commander.'

Leliana dismissed Clara, receiving a salute at odds with the curtsey one would expect in such a dress. Cullen watched as Clara left the room, the door swinging shut on the image of her arranging herself to stand with her back to the door.

The arguments began in earnest.

'I like my mornings how they are, thank you,' Herah uttered challengingly, arms crossed over her considerable breadth as she narrowed her eyes at her advisors. Cullen swallowed back a retort and sighed as he tried to avoid inflaming things further.

'Inquisitor, this is for your safety.'

'I _am_ safe. Even if I didn't have Clara to protect me, I can handle myself.'

'Only if you know it's coming. My agents are exceptional, but they cannot be expected to catch everything. Frankly, it's a surprise this has not happened sooner.'

Herah grunted. 'I'm willing to take the risk.'

'We are not.' Cullen interjected with a swipe of his hand. 'While it is commendable that you wish to train and dine with your companions each day, it's not acceptable to have such an easily observable routine.'

'It's something every assassin and bard knows how to exploit. The first challenge of any such contract is obtaining information. It is far too easy for our enemies to predict where you will be on any given morning in Skyhold. You are far too vulnerable.' Leliana continued harshly, eyes flashing under her hood as her posture began to mirror Herah's.

'Please, Inquisitor. At least take a different route or alter the timings,' Josephine offered. 'We just want to keep you safe when you're in Skyhold.'

Herah glanced at their Ambassador, clearly feeling the guilt intended with the conciliatory words, and sighed heavily. 'Fine. We shift the start times of these meetings and I vary my routes when leaving the Herald's Rest so I'm not always going up the main staircase. Acceptable?'

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. 'It will create some logistical difficulties, but it must be done. We can send messengers each evening to set the time for the following day?'

Josephine made a polite noise of rejection. 'We can set the time at the end of every meeting. Nobody need know when we are going to be here except us.'

'A good idea,' Leliana agreed. 'We can make it work. Now that's settled, onto the vetting process.'

~*~

_Chapter 2: Dance lessons_

Cullen despised making a fool of himself. He despised even more the idea of having to clumsily dance with a palace-load of Orlesian nobles. It was going to be an even more excruciating experience than these lessons, he predicted sourly.

Herah had decided she would take Vivienne, Cassandra and Dorian with her to the Winter Palace. Vivienne was, as expected, an exceptionally gifted dancer who knew every step and pass like the back of her hands. Dorian was not familiar with Orlesian dancing, but he had previous experience of ballroom dancing and was quick to pick up any new routines. Cullen and Cassandra, however, were another story altogether.

Cullen's boot landed on Cassandra's foot for perhaps the fourth time since the lesson began. Both groaned in defeat as they stopped dancing.

'This is ridiculous! Surely I do not need to _dance_.' Cassandra protested for the third time as she gingerly lifted her abused foot.

Josephine worried her lip as she considered what to do. She and Vivienne alternated as instructors for these sessions, but the Enchanter was busy entertaining an entire bevy of Orlesian nobles that she, apparently, had stronger ties with than Josephine. Cullen did not pretend to understand the intricacies of such politics. All he knew is that the taskmaster that was Vivienne was absent, and that Josephine had decided to partner Herah with Dorian and him with Cassandra while she watched and called out instructions or criticisms.

'The Inquisitor will be expected to dance, and we cannot leave her unattended in the ballroom. You know that we must play the Game whether we wish to or not, Cassandra!' Josephine said as she hurried over. 'Perhaps—perhaps it will be easier if you partner with Dorian?'

Cullen glanced at Herah. 'Myself and the Inquisitor is likely a greater disaster,' he said dryly. Herah chuckled and nodded with agreement, then clapped her hands.

'Well, the solution is obvious! Josephine, you partner with me. Cassandra, you partner with Dorian. And Cullen, you—' here she turned towards the doorway where her ever-present shadow stood. 'Clara, you know how to dance, yes?'

Clara nodded and began making her way over.

'Oh, of course!' Josephine tittered, shaking her voluminous skirts in her hands as she moved over. 'Very well then, as the Inquisitor says.'

'Come, Cassandra, let us dazzle this empty ballroom together!' Declared Dorian and he took long strides over to the Seeker and gathered her up, ignoring her noise of disgust with a winning smile and twitch of his moustache.

Everyone else in the room generously ignored the pink tint on Josephine's cheeks as she stepped into Herah's arms and began giving out further instruction on the dance they would attempt next.

'Commander,' greeted Clara as she stepped into his space and delicately placed a hand in his. The Commander nodded in return, willing himself not to make more of a fool out of himself as he carefully placed a hand around her waist. Maker's breath, she really was small. She didn't clear his shoulder and she was—could both of his hands encircle her waist? He pushed the thought away.

'Clara. I... apologise in advance for any damage done to your feet,' Cullen muttered apologetically, already done with the entire humiliating experience. He had forgotten that Clara was even present in the room. She was good at that, even though he'd been keeping an eye out for her now when he spotted the Inquisitor moving through Skyhold. Cullen thought that what he despised most of all might be making a fool of himself in front of women.

'Apology accepted,' Clara said with a hint of a smile as Josephine called in a new round of steps and they began moving.

'And _one_ , two, thee, four, and—'

'Sorry!' Cullen exclaimed a few minutes later as he trod on her foot exactly as predicted, glancing up from his traitorous feet to catch the wince on Clara's face. He found dancing so closely with a woman he did not know very uncomfortable, and had to keep willing his mind not to think on how she felt under his hands. Women could still fluster him very easily, especially one as easy on the eye as Clara.

Clara didn't stop moving once she'd gotten her slippered foot out from under him though, and continued pulling him into the next step. 'Commander, if I might make a suggestion?' She asked quietly, eyes on his lapel.

Cullen let out a sigh. 'As I am clearly in need of advice, please go ahead.'

'You clearly know what the steps are. You're focusing too much on where your feet are going, and you're very tense. Don't think too much on where your feet next need to go – think on something else.'

Cullen frowned. 'Like what?'

'Well...' Clara fell silent for a few more passes before she spoke up again. 'You are Fereldan, are you not? Where are you originally from?'

'Yes, I was born in Honnleath.' He saw Clara's brows rise out of the corner of his eye and looked at her. 'What?'

'That's a small town quite near Haven, is it not? I thought you were from Denerim.'

He gave her a wry look. 'Not every Fereldan is from Denerim.'

Clara twisted her lips, looking like she was resisting a grin. 'Forgive me, then,' she told him, sounding more playful and personable than he'd heard before.

'I've never even been there,' Cullen informed her dryly.

'Truly? You should go. Denerim is a large city with a lot to offer. And a lot less Orlesians to contend with than most capitals,' she told him. Cullen snorted in amusement as his eyes drifted down to his feet.

'Ouch!'

'Sorry!'

'See, that was going so well while I was distracting you.'

Cullen blinked and then gave his exasperated dance partner a half smile. 'You're right, your feet were actually safe for a moment there.'

'Shall we try something else? I heard from Herah that the Iron Bull and Solas sometimes play a mental game of chess when on the road.'

'Without a board?' Cullen considered, brow furrowed. He had never attempted such a thing.

'Yes. It's an impressive trick, particularly as—' here she leaned forwards and upwards to loudly whisper conspiratorially '—neither of them are actually that good at chess.' Cullen laughed and was rewarded with a smile from his companion as she settled back onto her feet. 'So, shall we try?'

'Alright. Pawn to C4.'

Clara smiled wider. 'Pawn to C5.'

She was good, Cullen realised some ten moves later as he thought through what to do next. It was a challenge, working through his strategy when he was unable to simply glance at the board and see where the pieces stood. Keeping the board in mind as they moved more pieces was a test of concentration he wasn't used to and he found himself relishing the challenge, especially against someone clearly proficient at the game.

'I've got you!' He said triumphantly a few seconds later as he opened his eyes. 'Bishop to B5.'

Clara's eyes flickered from side to side, clearly thinking. Then she groaned in defeat. 'Well, I could try and delay the inevitable, but you've got me on the ropes. The game is yours. Well played, Commander.' She said, not seeming too upset at her loss. Then she smiled, a slower, softer thing than the grins earlier. 'And you didn't miss a single step,' she told him quietly as she looked down at their feet as they came to a halt before flicking her eyes back up to his.

Cullen's eyes widened in astonishment when he realised they had crossed the entire ballroom and finished the dance without incident. 'Well, it seems I owe you my thanks, Clara.'

Her mouth curled upwards on the one side as she looked away from him and past his arm. 'No thanks necessary, Commander.' She demurred as she stepped back. Josephine started calling out to them, he caught the words ' _excellent work_ ' but he was too involved in watching the expression crossing Clara's face as she moved away, in the loss of her warm hand in his. And there was something in the way she intoned his title... some emphasis on it that he was sure wasn't normally there. Cullen blinked before righting himself. It wouldn't do to be distracted, he had managed to go nearly a whole dance without embarrassing himself and he shouldn't ruin that now by staring at Clara gormlessly just because they had danced together and she had flecks of bright green in her hazel eyes.

Cullen sighed heavily through his nose at that last thought. _Exactly what you shouldn't be noticing,_ he told himself.

Josephine arrived in a whirlwind of gold, her cheeks flushed as she congratulated Cullen on how well he had done. The Commander nodded at his partner, giving her a thankful look. 'Thank Clara, she did all the work.'

'She even got you to lead, Cullen!' Herah grinned as she approached, casually cocking a hip towards the Ambassador next to her. 'A woman of many talents, she is.'

Cullen coughed into his hand. 'Yes... quite.'

'Well, I think that is enough for today.' Cassandra declared as she strode over, ignoring Dorian's exclamation's of _come now Cassie, it wasn't that bad_. 'We have much to be getting on with.'

'Yes, we're due in the War Room. Commander, Hera—Inquisitor,' Josephine said, looking astonished at her own slip of the tongue.

'Quite right, _Josie_. Lead the way,' Herah teased her Ambassador.

Cullen noticed Clara smother a smile behind her hand as she looked away from Josephine's flustered mien, gaze crossing with his. Cullen jerked his eyes away from her immediately on instinct, feeling like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been, and then chastised himself for being so obviously flustered. Maker's breath, he needed to get a hold of himself.

'To work?' He asked the room in general, letting out a sigh of relief as they all began moving to exit the cavernous room they holed up in for dance lessons. Thank the Maker  _that_ was over.

~*~

_Chapter 3: Halamshiral_

Cullen watched as Josephine picked her away across the ballroom and went onto the balcony where Herah stood, leaning heavily on the marble balustrade. It had been a long and trying day for the Inquisitor. Orlesian nobles let their voices carry when discussing _uncivilised, beastly ox-women_. It was difficult for Cullen to hear it, let alone Herah as the intended audience. He was glad Josephine was there to try and lighten the mood. He had not intended to offer his company to the Inquisitor, not least when Josie's would be much more welcomed, but he had intended to find a quiet spot away from all these _nobles_ now that their work was done and he was no longer required to coordinate his men from the ballroom. He had snagged a rather large glass of wine and was looking for somewhere unoccupied to wind away the final hour. Cullen sighed in relief as he stepped onto a smaller side balcony and began closing the doors behind him, the braying voices fading into a murmur and the music to a pleasant background rhythm.

'Commander.'

Cullen turned to find Clara, standing out of sight on the edge of the balcony, looking up at his entrance in surprise.

'Oh. Clara. I-I did not expect to find you here.' Cullen said, a hand coming up to rub on the back of his neck as he felt his face heat. He hesitated, before deciding that he could probably survive some time alone with Clara. He finished closing the balcony doors and stepped forward next to her. She was looking over at a nice quiet area of the gardens that included a very ornate fountain with lots of... naked children. _For_ _Maker's sake_. His eyes flicked upwards and he saw the corner of the larger balcony he knew Herah was on, could just about hear the cadence of her and Josephine's voices. He glanced at Clara. 'Still on guard duty?'

'Mm,' Clara nodded. 'Habit, really. I was technically dismissed for the evening once the Grand Duchess was arrested and things calmed down. Still, I can't help but think that she's in that awful dress and doesn't have nearly enough knives on her to deal with an assassin.'

Cullen tried to turn his laughter into a cough behind his free hand. 'Don't let Josie or Leliana hear you call it that.'

Clara rested her chin on her hand, eyes glittering in the lamplight as she looked out towards where her charge was. 'Mm. It's pretty enough, but the corset and all the _layers_ make getting in and out of it a trial. Not to mention it's hardly easy to move in. I'm surprised she was able to dance in it at all.'

'She danced well.' Cullen nodded. 'As one would hope, after the many hours we spent practicing.'

Clara grinned at him widely from behind her fingers. 'Imagine that, Commander, you'll never need another dancing lesson again.'

Cullen jokingly thanked the Maker. Told himself to absolutely _not_ say that lessons with her hadn't been so bad, even if she had occasionally driven him to distraction.

They fell into silence, and Cullen was left uncomfortably aware of the woman next to him. That had been how it was every time Clara had walked into the room since that first dance lesson. It had only gotten worse. Every War Room meeting, he had had to stop himself from trying to leave the meeting first so he could... he didn't even know what. Exchange a few words, maybe a friendly smile, before she left with Herah? He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that made it so he couldn't help but have his eyes follow her across a room, or the courtyard, or the battlements. He had sometimes even forgotten that someone had been in the middle of speaking to him when he spotted her across Skyhold. It was unbecoming behaviour for a Commander, he should be _in control_ , especially of his emotions. He felt like an inexperienced young man again because of Clara and the undignified reactions she induced in him. 

Cullen glanced at Clara uneasily, finding her gazing down at her folded hands.

The time he had foregone his gloves for one of their lessons had been the worst. The feeling of her bare hands in his had coincided with one of the more intimate dances where they were supposed to be so close their fronts touched. The brushes of her chest against his had been _maddening_. Usually they conversed much as they had the first time, interspersing chess games with questions about each other, anecdotes where he tried to be funny and Clara actually laughed at a few of his japes. That time, he had been unable to form a sentence without stuttering. He'd had to hurry to his tower once the lesson was over and take himself in hand before his evening meeting with his Lieutenants, which had ended up being one of his more foolish ideas. He had tried to keep his mind away from her, but inevitably he had slipped back into imagining it was Clara's hands on him instead of his own. He had wondered how small her little hands would look against him, what her hair would look like down and mussed, thought of how easy it would be to lift her with his hands wrapped around her waist. He had come into his hand thinking of covering her body entirely with his and feeling all of her soft skin against him, around him. He hadn't been able to look at Clara for days afterwards, burning in shame every time he caught sight of her. He had no right to think of her that way.

He'd danced with several women in the course of his lessons, and sometimes he had even partnered with Dorian. But he had never left a lesson after being partnered with Vivienne thinking of the feeling of her against him, shamefully wondering what _more_ would feel like. He had never danced with Cassandra and found himself straining not to lean forward and breathe her scent in. Josephine had never left trails of goosebumps and nervous electricity wherever her skin touched. It wasn't that they had danced, it was that he had danced with _her._ It was _her_ , somehow, that had wormed under his skin and into his dreams.

'Not saving anybody a dance?' He asked her, overtaken by a urge he would likely regret later to do something with the time he could feel slipping away.

'I was going to ask you, actually, Commander, but I heard you drive away your admirers enough times tonight to realise you wouldn't be so inclined,' Clara admitted easily, not looking up from her hands as she turned them over and examined the finely wrought gloves she had been given for the event. As the Inquisitor's lady-in-waiting, she had needed to look the part. As an attendant, her dress was simpler than those of the other ladies' of the Inquisition and far less ornate than the noblewomen in attendance of the peace talks, but in Cullen's mind it only helped emphasise that Clara did not need hundreds of yards of fabric or a daring cut to look beautiful. Maker knew she looked better than the crones that had been crowding him all night, waving their silly fans at him and tittering at his every word like a troop of parakeets.

'Oh, that's... that's very kind of you,' he mumbled, clearing his throat as he straightened and rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncertainly at the woman beside him as he placed his wine glass down on the balustrade. Was that an invitation?

'I would always save a dance for you, Commander.' The words could have been friendly and teasing, as Clara usually was when she allowed herself to relax and be more herself, but the way she said them this time was not. Her voice was low, a little huskier than normal, and the way her mouth caressed the syllables of his title was criminal. When she looked up at him, her gaze was dark and promising.

_Maker's breath._

It was most definitely an invitation. And right that moment, he could not think of a single good reason to decline it.

Cullen swallowed through a dry throat and then held out his hand in a bow before he could second-guess himself. He didn't take his eyes off Clara's, saw her breath catch.

'May I have this dance, my lady?' His own voice came out rougher than intended.

'I'd love to, _Commander_.' Cullen felt his skin tingle as she slipped her hand in his, stepped forward until the front of her bodice brushed against his jacket. She looked up at him, eyes rimmed in kohl and lips painted red, every inch a vision.

Cullen swallowed again, sliding his hand around her waist to the middle of her back before he could question it. Clara's eyes widened before they shuttered, and she looked up at him with a lidded, promising gaze that sent the Commander's blood south. She didn't object, just let him start leading them through the dance that had caused him such trouble before.

It was even more maddening than last time. He could feel every shift of muscle under her skin, the press of her hand against the back of his shoulder, the warmth of her. With the (frankly absurd) heeled shoes she had on today, the top of her head reached his chin. Her face was much closer to his than he was used to. Clara bit her lips as she gazed up at him boldly, and his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. He didn't seem to be able to look away.

He didn't realise he had tightened his hold around her and dipped his head to bring her closer until her mouth dropped open slightly in response, a sound of breathy arousal escaping through her lips and setting his blood on fire. She carefully unlaced her hand from his and slid both her arms around his neck. Blood pounding, Cullen let his other hand drop to her waist, splaying his hands out to cover as much of her as he could in an impulse he didn't want to question. He nearly groaned aloud when he flexed his fingers into the laces of her corset and realised that he most definitely could encircle her with his hands. He continued trying to lead them through the steps, stumbling a few times due to his concentration being more shot than an archery target. They reached the end of the song, and drifted to a halt, standing where they had first started.

Cullen didn't let go. Clara was still looking up at him like-like... like she wanted him to take her right here on this balcony. His nostrils flared as his imagination ran away with the thought, imagined his hands sliding up her thighs under the soft Inquisition red of her dress. In fact, it was the same shade as his mantle... with gold embroidery.

Maker's breath. She was dressed in _his_ colours. The thought prompted him to possessively slide his hands down to the curve of her arse and pull her flush against him before he could think better of it. Clara gasped. They stood in a bubble of silence, caught in their heated look and mingled breaths, and Cullen had the sudden feeling that they had been on a precipice and he had just thrown them both over the edge. 

Clara threaded her hands into his hair and tugged his head down, pressing her lips against his. Cullen held still for several seconds, overwhelmed and still trying to adjust to the fact they had gone from maybe crossing the line to _definitely_ crossing the line, before he started kissing her back in earnest. He wasn't thinking anymore, just feeling, reacting, _touching_. He walked her back to the balcony edge and pressed her against the balustrade, lifting her by her arse to sit on it so he could press himself between her legs.

Clara made a noise of appreciation and simultaneously moved to wrap a leg around him and drop a hand from the back of his head to his own arse. Maker's _fucking_ breath, Cullen was lost in her. They were standing on a balcony in Halamshiral that had glass doors where anyone could walk up, and he just did not care. Clara was arching herself against his erection and Maker take it all he _did not care_ about anything else.

He broke off the chase of their tongues to press open-mouthed kisses against her jaw and down her neck. His lips drifted across her collarbone, tantalisingly near the soft swell of her breasts where they emerged from her bodice, and even through the haze of his arousal he hesitated to go further. Clara used the hand still tangled in his hair to tug him downward. Cullen found his face pressed firmly against her right breast, lips just above the border of her clothing, and let out a muffled groan. He kissed her eagerly, nipped and swiped his tongue under the fabric before returning to her mouth.

He was very much enjoying how Clara responded to his attentions, and found himself frustrated at how tightly her bodice kept her wound in. He pressed his hand to her breast anyway, if only to hear the stuttered moan Clara let out. He held back a full-body shudder as it occurred to him he could do exactly what he had envisioned earlier. His hand slipped down her front to her knee, pulling her other leg up around his hip. He was rewarded with a full-throated moan from Clara as she rolled her hips against him and let her head fall back. Her dress had now slipped scandalously high up her leg, and Cullen daringly slid his hand up underneath what little remained in place. Clara's eyes shot open and Cullen nearly pulled his hand back, but then she encouragingly put her own hand under his coat to the bare skin above his breeches, held his gaze a few breaths as they remained still.

What a picture they would make if anyone were to find them now. Her legs around him, their hands under each other's clothes, both wound into one another.

He still did not care. Clara's lipstick had smudged around her mouth, her hair was dishelleved, her dress was in a state and she had never looked more stunning. She was looking at him like she wanted him to _devour_ her. And right then, it was the only thing in the world Cullen wanted to do.

He kissed Clara again and pushed his hand up further, finding the lacy edge of her smalls and sliding his fingers underneath. He found her soaking wet. He stifled a groan and pulled his now wet fingers upwards to circle her little nub and Clara bucked against him, mouth slack as she closed her eyes. She bit her lip as he continued exploring her, clearly trying to hold herself back from making too much noise.

'C-Cullen,' she murmured, voice hitching and breaking as he slid his thumb inside her.

 _Fuck_. Cullen closed his eyes, the feel of her around him exquisite and yet not enough. Maker, he _did_ want to take her right here on the balcony.

Protests to such an idea died as her hand stopped rubbing circles into his side to deftly unbutton his breeches and venture inside. Her small hand wrapped around him and Cullen shuddered, burying his face in her neck and sucking on it to stop himself from groaning as she began working him. He pulled back to look at her: pupils blown wide, hair messy, biting her lip as she carried on tugging him. She gave him an intense look and then tipped herself forward, his hands sliding off her as she put her hands on his chest for balance and then slid down to her knees.

Cullen's breath caught and he didn't seem to be able to let it go as he watched both her dextrous little hands lift up the bottom of his jacket to free his cock from his breeches and smalls. She looked up at him as she wrapped one hand around the base and drew him into her mouth. Cullen gave a muted gasp as his hand came to rest on her head.

 _How is this happening?_ Cullen asked himself in disbelief as he watched her hollow her cheeks around him. It had been some time since he had last been with a woman, but he was sure this felt even better than he remembered. He curled a hand around Clara's jaw and then glanced down to realise that she had her other hand in her own underclothes. He thrust forward eagerly at the sight, prompting Clara to close her eyes and moan around his cock. _Fuck_! Cullen knew that he couldn't last like this. He savoured the feeling of her mouth around him a little longer, unable to stop himself from thrusting into her and enjoying the pleasured sounds she made each time he did so far too much. Eventually, he put both hands on Clara's shoulders, and she opened her eyes and allowed him to pull her up with as much gentleness as he could afford. He sat her back on the balcony, lifting her by her arse just as he had imagined in his delirious fantasies of her, and pulled her smallclothes aside. Clara brought her hand up to his mouth, and Cullen closed his lips around her fingers and watched as her eyes darkened as he tasted her. She drew her hand back, thumb stroking his bottom lip tenderly, before she placed her arm around his shoulders and used the other to brace herself against the balcony, watching him with clear anticipation as he took himself in hand and rubbed himself against her.

'Cullen,' she breathed, and that was all the invitation he needed, this time. Her mouth dropped open in a little 'oh' of surprise as he entered her, and she wound her legs around his waist. 'Oh, fuck, _yes_ ,' she gasped lowly, eyes on his as he moved within her furtively, frantically, desperate to eke as much pleasure out of them both as he could. Clara drew him to her and pressed warm kisses against his neck before Cullen captured her lips in a bruising kiss. He leaned forward on one hand and used the other to hold her knee, slamming into her with as much force as he could in this position, pushing her body further back over the balcony. He curled himself over her and pressed his mouth into her neck, liking how well he could hear the sounds he was wresting out of her now. Her whimpers grew louder as he thrust harder, forcing him to eventually let go of her knee to place a hand over her mouth. Her eyes flashed under his still-gloved hand and Cullen knew she liked him taking control, dominating her like this. It appealed to the basest parts of himself, too, the parts he usually tried to deny existed.

Clara leant back, both hands now on the balcony, tops of her breasts jiggling enticingly as she used her new leverage to push back onto him. Cullen glanced down at where they were joined and found himself mesmerised by the sight of her. Each sight and sound seemed more erotic than the last. He slid a hand down to rub against her nub again, not expecting the immediate response of Clara biting her own hand to try and muffle her cries as she tightened around him. He could hear a chorus building behind her hand and kept his pace until he felt her muscles contract around him, her eyes scrunched shut as her hands scrabbled at his coat for purchase through her climax. He watched her relax, muscles loosening as she turned almost boneless. Her hand slipped before she could properly grip onto the balcony, breathing hard through her open mouth, looking as well fucked as any woman Cullen had ever seen. 

'Clara,' he intoned lowly as his hips stuttered against her. He was close. Her eyes fluttered open and she regarded him breathlessly, a shaking hand pushing him back so she could unsteadily fall to her knees again. Cullen braced himself against the balcony as she licked him—tasting herself on him, he realised with a shudder—and drew him into her mouth again. Cullen allowed himself to reach his peak this time, thrusting only when he began to spend into her mouth. He looked down to see her eyes closed as she swallowed him down.

They held their spots for a few seconds before Clara gently let go of him and moved back, carefully folding him back into his smalls and buttoning up his breeches. She smoothed his coat back down and then stood slowly. They regarded one another for a few seconds as Clara ran her hands over his hair and thumbed what must be her lipstick off his face. Cullen felt his breath shorten, feeling that this, somehow, was more intimate than what had just come before. Cullen lifted his hands to set her to rights just as gently, straightening her smalls and tugging on her dress until it hung right. He let his hands skim her exposed arms as he moved up to carefully wipe where her make-up had run. He then tried to pin back into place some of the strands that had fallen free of her braid. Clara watched him silently, before replacing his ungainly hands with her own, shooting him a shy smile as she did.

Her hands dropped slowly as they looked at each other, surrounded by an entirely different kind of tension than before. Should he take her hands? Cullen had never had to deal with this before – he had always been very clear with any previous partners on his expectations and boundaries.

They both startled at the sound of footsteps entirely too close to the balcony, both tense and standing still as they waited for the intruder to move along. When the coast was clear once more, Cullen felt suddenly bashful as Clara glanced up at him. What had gotten into him? He had just taken her in a public place at Empress Celene's peace talks. If it were discovered, it could be disastrous for the Inquisition. What had he been thinking? He wanted her, but not like this – he shouldn't have gone about it like _this_.

He had done this all wrong, all backwards. This hadn't been how it was supposed to _go_. 

'I—I should go,' he offered quietly, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked off to the side. He looked back at Clara but found he was suddenly unable to hold her gaze. Maker, what must she think of him, Commander of the Inquisition engaging in such activities at such an important event? Taking her like she was some serving girl he had stumbled across in a darkened corner? _Shit_. Cullen closed his eyes in consternation.

'Of course, Commander.' Her voice was just as quiet, much more even and—no longer held that special intonation of his title. Cullen sketched a hasty farewell bow and then escaped the balcony before he could embarrass himself further.

He pushed through the crowds to the restroom and began vigorously washing his gloves with soap. He avoided looking at his own reflection in the ornate, gilded mirror above the sink, too ashamed to look up at himself and see any further evidence of his poor behaviour. Maker curse his weakness. He should have done better than let it get that far, he should have found another balcony, one that was actually empty. He found a hand towel and began furiously drying the leather with it. He braced his hands against the sink once his now lemon-scented gloves were as dry as they were going to get and drew in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out. He opened his eyes and looked at himself.

He didn't look as mussed as he had feared. His fingers combed through his hair a few more times to try and get it to lie flat. There was nothing to be done about the redness of his lips or the slight mark on his neck – he pulled his collar higher to cover it, hoping it would look like a shadow. He clenched his jaw, knowing Leliana and likely Josephine as well would see right through it. His face burned at the thought of them knowing what he had done. He breathed deep a few more times to try and calm and centre himself, aware that the longer he hid, the more noticeable his absence would become.

 _Go back out there, you coward. Face the consequences_ , a little voice inside his head recriminated him. He nodded to himself and straightened, tightening the belt around his waist and tugging his sleeves over his gloves. _Right, time to face the music._

~*~

 _Chapter 4: Misunderstandings_  

Cullen wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Whatever it was, it hadn't been Clara studiously acting like nothing had ever happened. With no further dance lessons, his only encounters with her were limited to the few times he and Herah crossed paths around Skyhold. The only significant time allowing for any interaction had been when he had come up behind the Inquisitor taking a path through the garden to get to the War Room. He had ascended the steps with Herah leading and Clara just behind her. His hand itched to reach upwards and take Clara's in his, but indecision had gripped him. What was he hoping for, just to hold her hand? A hurried chance to apologise? She still deserved better than stolen moments. The opportunity passed before he could act on it. He had remained in a sour mood the rest of the day, frustrated with himself.

He still found his eyes caught on her every time he noticed her out of the corner of his eye. His illicit rendezvous with her had done nothing to quell his desire for her. On the contrary, now he woke nearly every morning covered in sweat and achingly hard as he thought of the way she had tasted, sounded, felt. He woke every morning to the knowledge that he didn't seem to want anything more than to have her next to him in his bed.

Finally, things came to a head.

Herah burst into the War Room meeting one morning two weeks after Halamshiral looking outraged.

'Where is Clara?' She asked, voice dangerous and eyes bright as she stalked towards Leliana.

The Spymaster did not back down. 'She has been relieved of duty,' she enunciated clearly and without hesitation.

'What for? What about my protection?' Herah spat angrily.

'I have several other agents on duty, they simply don't play the same role. Another handmaid is being trained as we speak. You are still quite protected, Inquisitor.'

'I _don't want_ another handmaiden. And you didn't answer my question,' Herah challenged slowly.

Leliana raised her chin. 'Clara is being disciplined after certain _indiscretions_. I expect better from all my agents.'

Cullen's blood froze. Leliana did not look at him, but she may as well have with how suffocated he suddenly felt under her disapproval. He could feel the tension growing thick in the air. He cut a glance towards Josephine; she stood frozen with her quill hovering above her parchment, eyes flicking between the two women. Herah was frowning thunderously, brows drawn low as she stared down the impassive Leliana.

'I am sorry, what are we speaking of?' Josephine queried carefully, clearly not willing to shoulder into an argument between her good friend and her lover.

'Yes, Leliana, what _are_ we speaking of? To my knowledge, Clara has never betrayed the Inquisition, the only crime I can think would justify her being unceremoniously fired.'

Cullen's stomach dropped. Oh, Maker, he hoped it was not that. Not only because if that were the case she was almost certainly dead, but because of what that meant about his ability to judge character. A good Commander would never have fallen for such a trick.

But even as he thought it, his mind rebelled against the idea. He could not believe that what Clara felt... what he had felt, what they had _shared_ , was real. It may not have been named or carried out in the best place or time, but real it most certainly had been. No, there had been no betrayal. He knew from his conversations with her that Clara believed whole-heartedly in Herah and what she could achieve. She would die for their Inquisitor before betraying her. No. This was about their ill-advised romp, he was sure of it. He felt suddenly cold at the thought that he would get away with no punishment at all, whilst Clara was being penalized in such a way.

'She allowed her better judgement to be clouded due to an infatuation. An unacceptable weakness,' Leliana retorted crisply.

'Then perhaps I should also be removed from my post, Leliana,' Cullen said as he slowly opened his eyes and turned towards his fellow advisor. Leliana's gaze when it met his was cold. 'If the fault is with anyone, it lies with me.'

Herah stared at him, mouth slightly open. 'What?' She asked.

For the first time that Cullen could remember, Leliana completely ignored the Inquisitor. 'You are quite right that I expect better from you also, Commander, but unfortunately you are not so easily replaced,' she intoned icily.

'Are you _serious_?' Herah exploded furiously after a few beats of tense silence, and for a second Cullen thought her anger directed at him, before her accusing gaze landed again on Leliana. 'All of this because of her tryst with the Commander? _Are you serious_?'

Leliana faltered. 'You knew?'

Herah threw her hands up in wordless frustration. 'Of course I bloody knew! It may have escaped your all-seeing eyes, but Clara and I are friends! I knew very well how she felt about the Commander. I _encouraged_ her to pursue it!'

The advisors all looked at Herah in shock. 'I—you did?' Cullen asked awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

The Inquisitor let out a huff of disgust reminiscent of Cassandra. 'Yes, I did. This is entirely ridiculous, this is _actually ridiculous,_ ' Herah repeated as she dropped her head and massaged the bridge of her nose like she felt a headache coming on. 'No, this is simply not happening.' She straightened again and folded her arms below a flat, steely gaze. 'Leliana, whatever you have done, you will undo. She may be your agent but she is also my friend, and I would not have her treated so poorly over something that is in fact _very minor_ in the scheme of things and also _not an issue_. She will be back with me by tomorrow. And _you_ , Commander, will speak with her at your _earliest convenience_ about what happened between you two and work it out. Now, _we_ shall speak no more of this. What's our first order of business?'

Nobody wanted to challenge the authority of the Inquisitor when she was so incensed. Both he and Leliana exchanged a look before responding affirmatively. Josephine began with the first item on the agenda without hesitation, clearly wanting to move the conversation along into less dangerous waters.

Cullen found the meeting passed in a haze, and before long, Herah had announced the meeting's end and turned on her heel to briskly head out the door. Josephine looked worriedly after her lover and gave both Cullen and Leliana a hurried bow before she too left the War Room at speed. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he felt the Spymaster's eyes on him.

'When you—' he faltered, cleared his throat, then started again. 'Tell Clara that I will be in my office if she wishes to speak to me.' He was unable to meet Leliana's eyes and focused on the map of Orlais instead.

'Very well, Commander,' she said, and there was still some anger there, but it was much more tempered and even.

'Thank you,' he said, glancing at her to find her watching him shrewdly, likely seeing right through him. He cleared his throat again and gave her a bow as he took his leave. The Spymaster would cool off, given time. Being taken to task by the Inquisitor was not pleasant for anyone. He was lucky to have gotten off so lightly, he thought.

He found that he simply couldn't face supervising the training today. He caught the eye of Rylen – who had returned from the keep in the Western Approach after their success at Adamant with many stories about sand in places where it did not belong and prayers for the 'poor sod' that had taken command of the remaining men – and told him to take over for him, and to spread the message he was not to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary. Rylen took this in stride and gave a crisp salute before heading off, likely because Cullen had previously made such requests when the withdrawal had hit him particularly hard and Rylen was one of the few in his confidence.

Cullen sighed and detoured to the kitchens to grab some food before he made his way to his office. He set the covered tray down on his cluttered but well-organised desk, and unceremoniously dumped the books that had been sitting on his chair onto the floor so he could sit heavily. He rested his head in his hands and tried to calm the whirlwind of his thoughts.

He was deeply embarrassed at the thought of Leliana knowing exactly what had happened at Halamshiral, and he could only hope that one of her agents hadn't been _watching_ them, Maker preserve him. He was still disappointed in himself for the abysmal lapse in judgement, but he could not quite bring himself to regret that it had happened, only the circumstances. He was frustrated with himself for letting himself leave Clara on the balcony without even trying to discuss what their coupling meant. Most of all, he had within him a dreadful, burgeoning hope borne of the Inquisitor's words from earlier.

_I knew very well how she felt about the Commander._

Cullen braced his elbows on his knees, pressing his mouth into his clasped hands as he willed himself not to read too much into it. After all, what Clara _felt_ could just be intense attraction, the kind of lust that had overwhelmed him that day on the balcony. It didn't mean she felt _more_ , that she thought of him as fondly as he did of her, that she missed talking with him during their lessons as he did, that she was interested in trying to enter a real relationship. He sighed heavily against his fingers and ran a hand through his hair, aggravated at the thought of it all going so awry. He had planned to speak with Clara once the war was over, provided they both survived, and explore things from there. Apparently, he couldn't trust in his self-control well enough around her for things to go to plan.

He stood and began trying to sort through his piles of paperwork. He should at least _try_ to get some work done, even if his thoughts were going to be consumed by Clara all day.

He was right; an hour later and he had only managed to re-arrange his piles four times instead of actually getting anything done. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to _focus_.

A knock sounded out on the middle doorway leading from Solas's rotunda. 'Enter,' Cullen called, not looking up from his work.

'You wished to speak with me, Commander?'

Cullen started, head snapping up as he looked at Clara standing in the doorway, convinced for a bewildering moment that he desired her presence so much he was imagining it. He drank in the sight of her; the same simple white dress with the belt around the waist, the braided hair, the warm hazel eyes. She shifted awkwardly in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, and he rushed to get the words out before she could reconsider and leave.

'I—yes—Clara, I—' He paused to collect himself, closing his eyes as he bemoaned his ability to make a hash of things once again. He opened them to find Clara hiding a smile behind her hand, clearly amused with his struggles, eyes bright and kind. He rolled his eyes at himself, startling a chuckle out of her. 'Yes, I wanted to speak with you.' The words were easier when he was looking past her to the door she was slowly shutting behind her. 'I was... very much disappointed in myself for how I acted that day in Halamshiral. You deserved better,' he told her quietly, eyes dropping to his desk.

'Do you regret it?' The words were soft, and guarded.

Cullen's head shot up. 'Maker, no, that isn't what I meant!'

'Oh,' she said, relaxing and closing the door behind her with a snap. She walked forward to stand in front of his desk, hands laced behind her back. 'Then what do you mean?'

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and found that he couldn't look at her as he spoke. 'When I... left. I should have spoken with you instead of running, made my intentions known.'

Clara was silent for so long that he felt compelled to look at her to try and judge what she was thinking. She was watching him carefully, frowning a little. Then she sighed, one of her arms coming up to clutch at her other elbow, looking more vulnerable than Cullen could remember.

'It's alright if it was meant to be a one-time thing, Commander. That's all I expected,' she told him, gaze downcast.

Cullen was silent for a few moments while he processed her misunderstanding. 'Ah, no, again, not what I meant,' he said carefully, watching as her eyes darted to his, hope blooming across her face in a tentative smile.

'Really?' She seemed to regret the word as soon as it left her, sucking her lip back into her mouth and biting down on it, eyes still so hopeful.

'Really,' he gave her a smile as he straightened from behind his desk and moved towards her. 'My plan was to approach you after we had defeated Corypheus, ask if you, t-that is, if we—if you would allow me to court you,' he told her, trying not to trip over too many of the words.

' _Oh_ ,' Clara said again as she stared at him. 'Oh.' Pink crept up her cheeks. 'Well, that didn't go to plan, did it,' she said, biting her lip to try and contain her grin as she looked demurely at the ground.

Cullen reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 'Not at all. But like I said, I don't regret it.'

'Me neither, although your plan sounds good, too,' Clara told him, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. Cullen felt so warm and light he thought he might burst. He was completely unable to contain his grin, or stop himself from tugging Clara forward with their joined hands and bending down to press a kiss to her lips. She kissed him back immediately, pressing herself against him and making it impossible to step away. He could feel her smile against his, making it hard to actually kiss and prompting a giggle from Clara as she pulled back. What he had planned to say next died in his throat as he wound his arms around her, mindful of the fact he was in armour this time, and felt her arms wrap around his neck for balance as she stood on her tiptoes to reach him.

Unlike their previous frantic and heated kisses, these ones were no less eager, but much slower and more tender. Cullen took the time to relearn her as they stood in the middle of his office, setting a leisurely pace as they both expressed affection as well as desire. When Cullen tried to pull away, Clara pressed another kiss to his lips, and then another, before she was able to let him go. He left his arms around her and she seemed content to carry on their conversation with her hands knotted into his mantle and leaning up against him.

'Are you free this evening?' Cullen asked her.

'I am, in fact, free all day, Cullen,' Clara told him with a teasing smile. 'For you, at least.'

Cullen glanced at his desk and let out a put-upon sigh. 'I wish I could say the same. I _do_ need to tackle some work today but—tonight, after my last meeting, I'll see you then?'

'Of course,' she said, smiling softly as she reached up to give him one final kiss before stepping away. 'I should probably go and speak with Herah. I calmed her down somewhat earlier, telling her no harm no foul, but she was still spitting feathers a little.'

Cullen laughed. 'Yes, that sounds like her. Go and attend to your Inquisitor, I will be awaiting your return.'

Clara paused by the door, then gave Cullen a deep curtsey. 'Commander,' she said in farewell, a teasing glint in her eye. 'Until tonight.'

She left and closed the door behind her quietly, and Cullen was left to sit down at his desk and attempt work, a dazed smile on his face more often than not. He was more hopeful for the future than he could remember being in a long time. There would be obstacles to overcome, that much was certain – his withdrawal, Corypheus, their duties – but he was also certain that perhaps, just perhaps, he and Clara had a chance to make this work. After all, his best laid plans had gone to the Void, but that hadn't stopped them.

~*~


End file.
